


Sherlock's Scarf

by MrsMCrieff



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sweet, art by rebka18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 07:04:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8002960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsMCrieff/pseuds/MrsMCrieff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fluffy little one shot story about Molly's obsession with Sherlock's scarf. Question is does he know about it? Art by the amazing Rebka18.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock's Scarf

Molly had always had a thing for necks; necks and jaw lines. Every guy she'd ever fancied had had a long neck and a defined jawbone and Sherlock was no exception. What made it worse in his case though was the scarf. She would have thought the scarf covering the neck would have made it less appealing but the reverse was the case.

He'd arrive in the morgue or the lab and the first thing he'd do would be to rip off the scarf. Molly swore he did it on purpose and it got to her, Every. Single. Time. He probably had no idea how sexy he looked when he did it. He was normally distracted, already talking at a thousand words a minute about the case, the tests or the body parts he needed and he'd normally have to repeat himself because Molly had been too busy watching the scarf rip to bother listening to him speak.

He'd throw the scarf and the coat down on the table and forget about them until it was time for him to leave but Molly would be watching and waiting anticipating the second part of the scarf's attraction, the moment he put it back on.

He'd pick it up and wind it in an intricate loop around his neck before threading the ends through the loop and pulling it tight. She'd watch his fingers moving dextrously round the soft fabric and wonder just what else he could do with those long, artistic hands...

And Molly knew just how soft those scarves were. Oftentimes when he'd leave them on the table and then exit the room for some reason Molly would find herself stroking the fabric. Cashmere of course, Sherlock was nothing if not well dressed. All his clothes screamed money, fitted suits and shirts, buttons straining over his chest, a Belstaff coat that must have cost thousands. So it was only to be expected that his scarves would be top of the range too.

Molly often wondered whether Sherlock actually noticed her reactions to him. She knew his powers of observation but he never commented nowadays on her attraction to him, never referred to it or used it to manipulate her like he had done when they first started working together. Every so often she catch him glancing at her fleetingly and she'd blush knowing she was biting her lip or gripping a pen too tightly as he removed the scarf.

It all came to a head one day when he'd been called away from the morgue by a phone call from Greg, it seemed there had been a breakthrough in a difficult case. Sherlock took the call, grabbed his coat and ran out of the door without even bothering to put the coat on and because of that he didn't notice the scarf left behind forlornly on the desk. Molly did though.

She waited for at least twenty minutes, to make sure he wasn't going to suddenly burst back in to collect it, then she wandered over and picked it up. It was her favourite, the blue one, which was odd because her favourite shirt on him was purple.

She glanced, once again, at the door to check he wasn't coming back and then she brought the material up to her face inhaling his scent and feeling the soft wool caress her cheeks. She wondered what she should do with it now. She didn't like to leave it out on the desk, she argued with herself that it could get stolen or the cleaners might put it in Lost Property.

If she'd been thinking logically, sensibly she would have just put it in a drawer or in her locker for safe keeping. Instead she found herself looping it round her neck when she was getting ready to go home. It felt just that little bit naughty, wearing his scarf, and Molly found herself smiling to herself every so often as she made the journey home. With just a small tilt her head and a lift of her shoulder she could smell his scent. It certainly helped to make the tube ride home more bearable.

When she finally made it home and changed out of her work clothes into a t shirt and sweat pants she couldn't resist putting the scarf back on and she sat absentmindedly running the fringe of it through her fingers as she watched TV.

It was just after nine when the doorbell rang and Molly was so surprised to have a visitor at that time that she completely forgot what she was wearing. She ran to the door and opened it to find an unscarved Sherlock stood on her doorstep.

'Oh..hi. What are you doing here? Do you need something?' She stood back to let him into her flat. She couldn't recall him ever coming round before, didn't even know he knew her address although given it was Sherlock she wasn't surprised.

He raised an eyebrow and smirked as he walked in and it was at that moment just as the front door swung shut behind him that she realised she was still wearing his scarf. She knew she was blushing and biting her lip with embarrassment, rather than attraction, and she made to take it off quickly but he caught her hand.

'Oh no, Molly. I think it's about time you wore the scarf, don't you think?'

'I....what?' Molly looked up at Sherlock. They were still stood in the small corridor to her front door. He was standing closer to her than normal because of the restricted space and he seemed to loom over her. She looked up into his eyes and saw something there she hadn't ever noticed before. His usual blue/green eyes were almost completely black. The look he gave her was one she never thought she would see on his face and she thought she must be mistaken.

'Did you think I wouldn't see, wouldn't notice? I see everything Molly. Every time you watch me take that scarf off, every time you bite your lip, your breathing becoming erratic, your pupils dilating. I ignored it at first, even mocked your physical reactions to me as sentimental and irrelevant. But bit by bit, Molly Hooper, you have got under my skin and I can't ignore it any longer.'

Molly's head swam as Sherlock took a step closer. She automatically stepped back but her back hit the wall. He reached up to touch his scarf letting it slide between his finger and thumb until he reached the point where it lay between her breasts. His hand hesitated, his eyes glancing down. He placed the flat of his hand on the valley between her breasts and looked back up at her.

Molly's breath hitched in her throat, she couldn't speak, couldn't seem to say or do anything, she felt like she was caught in his gaze, like a deer caught in head lights.

'I find I like seeing you wearing my scarf Molly, more than I thought I would and I have thought about it....... I think I would like to see you wearing just my scarf.....and nothing else.'

Molly felt lust washing over her, heard herself moan lightly. God, what was he doing to her, how was this even happening.

He moved closer again his hand dropping down to her waist. She was still looking into his eyes and she knew, just knew he was going to kiss her. She watched his face come closer, her eyes now flicking to his lips. She saw his tongue dart out to lick them and saw his eyes start to close as he came closer, then her own eyes closed as his mouth captured hers in a slow, exquisite kiss.

The reality of kissing Sherlock Holmes was so much better than the fantasy. He tasted of coffee and chocolate and he smelt just the same as the scarf she was wearing. She was finally able to move, letting her hands slide up his chest and round to his back underneath his coat and jacket. He felt strong and warm and she pulled him closer, their chests mashing together and their hips meeting.

She heard herself moan again, it seemed almost sub-conscious but it seemed to push Sherlock into deepening the kiss, his tongue entering her mouth.

It wasn't long before their clothes were scattered through Molly's apartment leaving a trail from the front door to her bedroom.

The only item not to be found on the floor was a blue cashmere scarf.


End file.
